


Time Capsule Fairytale

by kunshi_sekijou



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Future Fic, Korean drama cheesiness, M/M, semi-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunshi_sekijou/pseuds/kunshi_sekijou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the last fairytale on this little planet... That's why, we have to seal it in a time capsule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Capsule Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally posted on ff.net.**  
> ...  
>  _"Lost love is still love… It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. Life has to end. Love doesn't."_  
> 
> -From Mitch Albom's _The Five People You Meet in Heaven_

**[BGM:** Matsueda Noriko  & Eguchi Takahito - "1000 Words (piano ver.)" **]**

 **[BGM:** Honpo Furukawa feat. Hatsune Miku - "Alice -reprise-" **]**

**Time Capsule Fairytale**

" _Open your eyes."_

"…"

" _Good morning."_

"… _Good morning."_

" _How do you feel?"_

" _Fine, thank you."_

" _Good. Do you remember who I am?"_

" _You are my creator."_

"… _Is that all you can recall?"_

" _Yes."_

"… _I see…"_

"… _I apologize. Was there something else I should be aware of?"_

"… _No… That was all…"_

…

College graduation.

It wasn't so much a celebration to welcome the future, the time supposedly bright and full of optimism. It was really a remembrance, an obituary, dedicated to all the things the graduates have sacrificed to keep the short-lived past company in its grave.

And of course, there were also things that just stubbornly refused to die. Like suppressed memories.

To Yukimura Seiichi, walking upon the carpeted path in the auditorium on his way up to the podium to collect his honors and awards felt more like traveling on a journey through memory lane.

He disregarded all the envious and jealous stares of his classmates. He dismissed the looks of approval and admiration from his professors.

Everyone assumed he traveled a path full of glory and magnificence.

Only he knew, things differed from their appearances.

Memory's tidal wave rushed in to drown out the deafening applause.

…

_The gift Renji received on his birthday in the year preceding their graduation from college was the diagnosis of advanced stage lymphoma._

_Amusingly enough, it finally provided him a true explanation to his fatigue and pallor that prevented him from concentrating fully on his schoolwork in the previous year. It also provided the answer to the abnormal swelling around his abdomen and under his armpits that he had dismissed as his lack of exercise upon his entrance to college._

_The oncologist suggested aggressive treatment of radiation combined with max dose chemotherapy_ (1) _._

_Renji complied with the oncologist's management of care. He agreed even with his comprehension of the devastating treatment side effects the physician minimally introduced in his explanation. Doing so, he fully accepted his new identity as a hospital patient along with the secret label of pharmaceutical test subject._

_His additional gift included a summer vacation of confinement within the white hospital walls._

_He and Genichirou began visiting Renji once he settled in the hospital. Ironically, this situation served as a past reminder for him. Except, this time, Renji became the one confined to bed due to sickness instead of him._

_The overwhelming side effects of chemotherapy ambushed the other without much of a warning. It was common for him to walk into Renji's room to see him hovered over an emesis basin, regurgitating what little remained inside his stomach._

_But, commonality didn't stop him from rushing to the other's side. He ran a hand down his back, attempting to comfort him as best he could. From the corner of one eye, he spotted a middle-aged nurse injecting medication into the IV bag beside Renji's bed._

" _Can you give him something to help control his vomiting?"_

" _I've already done that." The nurse withdrew the needle after the injection._

_He examined the nurse carefully then, only to find dull apathy in her eyes left behind by time and experience. While he would have sympathized and easily dismissed the small inconvenience in an ordinary situation, his worry for his companion dissolved his usual passive and polite demeanor._

" _Why isn't it working then?" He pressed further._

_The nurse disposed of the syringe in the sharps box and stood at the garbage can to remove her latex gloves. "Well, the medication might be ineffective for him. Or his body might have not yet metabolized it. Or maybe, its effects might have already worn off."_

_The monotone of her voice made her seem as if she recited contents from a textbook. Verbatim._

_Before he could retort with a sharp comeback, his companion diverted his attention with a light squeeze at his arm._

" _I'll be back later." She passed them on her way out._

_Disapproval wrinkled the space between his brows. Seiichi glared at the scrubbed figure disappearing down the hall. "Is that what she learned from nursing school?"_

_Straightening slowly, Renji made no comment to his statement as he staggered weakly back to bed._

_Tossing all thoughts aside, he supported him in what seemed to the other like great adversity. He tucked him into the covers as gently as a mother preparing her child for bed. Afterwards, he found a chair to drag to the bedside. There, he would sit overseeing the other's slumber._

" _Do you not have assignments to complete?" Renji turned away, showing him only the back of the knit cap once he lied down on the cheap saggy mattress. Seiichi knew, there was not a single strand of auburn hair left under there. Chemotherapy made sure of that. "You do not have to come so often."_

_The other's pride verbalized._

" _There is always someone coming. It is always either someone from home, or you, or Genichirou. Perhaps it would have been better if I had kept this illness from the both of you in the first place."_

" _But we would have found out eventually. We have connections." It wasn't that he wanted to argue with a moody patient. He merely intended to remind him of the bond they shared._

"…"

_He sighed inwardly. Pride existed as the reason for the other's sharp words, and it remained now also the reason for his silence._

_Rising from his seat, he tucked away a side rail, a built-in safety device, to sit on the bed the other lied on. He resumed his speech, after removing what he felt was a blockade between them._

" _I know you don't want us to see you like this. I know that you aren't really too happy about the disease progress and your appearance right now. I know, because I've been there too." He referred to his illness during junior high._

_His hand reached out, stroking the other's arm. Human contact equaled the best treatment for patients who carried labels of sickness that isolated them from the rest of the population. "But, would we still be this close if we only knew of each others' perfections?"_

_His words must have made some kind of impact. For his companion turned slowly to peer at him then, however hesitant and unwilling he was._

_Seiichi gazed at his face and noted how all the misfortunes from the other's recent experiences drained color from his face and casted shadows under his eyes. As if feeling the other didn't already appear older than his age, the illness squeezed the last traces of youth from Renji's façade._

_Bearing witness to such a sight, he had to restrain himself, to clench his teeth together so tightly that his jaws started aching, to keep from breaking down._

…

"Sanada Genichirou."

Was it possible for one's spirit to become detached from one's body?

Before, he wouldn't have known the answer to such a question because it never occurred to him personally.

He watched the other rise ceremoniously from his seat beside his, walk the same carpeted lane he walked, putting on the same tepid expression he forced on his face before.

He didn't know whether or not one's spirit could really detach from one's body.

But, watching his friend's steps made him feel as if he became the spirit that wandered away from the other's body. The spirit now watching Genichirou's every movement.

Seiichi recognized Genichirou traveling through the same memory lane he traveled through.

…

_Just as everyone cultivated unique talents, everyone had something he was incapable of accomplishing._

_The same rule applied even to those who appeared gifted in almost all that they did._

_As capable as Renji remained as an intelligent learner, there was one thing he continued to fail at: the simple act of bidding farewell to someone he would no longer be seeing._

_Seiichi knew of the other's lack of talent in saying goodbyes because the other never said goodbye. To his former doubles partner from elementary school. Neither to him nor to Genichirou._

_He and Genichirou visited Renji again two weeks before their final exams._

_By that time, the usual tall, athletic-built Renji swelled up so much due to the abnormal cell proliferation in his lymph nodes that the loose pajamas he brought with him to the hospital no longer fit him. He had to switch into one of a larger size._

_Self-conscious, he usually hid his figure under the covers when the two of them came to visit. It took some gentle coaxing and patient waiting for him to finally face them and hold somewhat of a normal conversation._

_"Final exams draw near. You two should focus on your studies."_

_Seiichi grinned, a speck of mischief twinkling in his eyes. "Ne, do you realize how much you sound like Genichirou when you said that?"_

_The subject of his mischief only blinked._

_Since Renji turned his back to them as he looked out the window, he couldn't see his expression directly. He did, however, see mirth lift a corner of the other's lips in his reflection on the glass._

_Perhaps it was how tranquil and comfortable everything seemed that day that he neglected an important detail. He should have known that people usually tried to hide something, to prevent their countenances from betraying them when they talked with their backs turned._

_He should have known that the other hid something from them that day._

" _So, what is the doctor planning?" After some small talk, he redirected the conversation to its main course._

_"The physician suggested surgery."_

_With brows knit and arms cross, Genichirou inquired. "What are your chances?"_

_"...Fifty-fifty."_

_He and Genichirou exchanged looks. They began, "Renji…"_

_"It's fine." The other cut them off. He finally turned around. "I will be fine."_

_Their companion managed a smile that wouldn't have been defined as attractive to strangers. But to them, that smile formed a sign of optimism that appealed to them like a glimpse of light in darkness._

_And that, along with the other's reassurance, was enough to convince the both of them._

_Over the next few days, he concentrated on his studies with Genichirou like Renji had suggested. He dove so deep into his studies that he hardly took time for breaks. Though, during certain points in time, when his wandering concentration began pursuing the thought of his sick friend, he would pick up his cell phone to text him._

_Sometimes he received a reply to the messages he sent. Sometimes he didn't._

_A strange feeling of anxiety plucked at the end of his nerves during those times when the other failed to reply._

_When he attempted to verbalize that uneasiness, Genichirou only suggested it to be anxiety for the finals. His worries, dismissed, just like that. Or rather, the two of them were just attempting to suppress their uncertainties. That's all._

_Deep down inside, still, his intuition consistently demanded for attention._

_It was until Renji stopped replying to his texts altogether that he finally addressed his fears._

_He rushed to the hospital immediately after his final exams. For the first time, he became aware of the sluggish speed the train proceeded at. His eyes lost their focus in the utility poles and the roof tops and trees passing outside when his mind pondered a single matter refusing to untangle itself from his thoughts._

_If surgery had been an option, then why didn't the physician present such an option in the first place? That way, the other wouldn't have to suffer for so long._

_Unless..._

_Realization became the iciness that swept through his sweat glands._

_Unless, possibility already pushed surgery out of the picture when Renji was diagnosed_ (2) _._

_Everything dissolved into a blur around him then. When he dashed out the train at his stop. When he pushed his way through the crowd. Everything fogged up to a disarray of colors and shapes around him._

_His vision cleared again only when he arrived outside the hospital._

_The room he entered and exited countless times in the last year, the same room he was capable of coming to in the depths of his slumber, transformed into an entirely different environment._

_The pile of books he brought the other disappeared. The blanket Genichirou's mother crocheted for the other vanished. Most importantly, the other was nowhere in sight._

_Only tidy white sheets stretched across an unoccupied bed._

_Renji's silent farewell echoed through the empty hospital room._

…

In the future, if anyone curiously interviewed him of the hardest part he found about his four-year college experience, he would have replied mirthlessly, "The graduation ceremony."

Then, he would add, "Especially the graduation speeches." Especially that one particular speech.

"I just want to take a moment to make a special dedication to a student who recently passed away."

He knew it was coming. He saw it in the school director's sudden change in expression. When he should have paid serious attention like everyone else while the man spoke, he diverted his attention to entertainment of the man's talent in acting, in pretending.

His friend stiffened in his seat beside his. The other remained in his rigid position in the entirety of the man's elaborate speech about that person's achievements, about his potentials, about his future and finally, about the misfortune that denied him of all life's possibilities.

"It was an honor." At last, the closing line.

If it had been a debate rather than a speech, he would have shot up immediately to rebuttal when the other finished.

" _Did you know who he was when you spoke of him on such personal terms? Did you know about his struggles, his pains, his disappointments, his regrets? What was he to you but a tool, an advertisement, for you to gain fame and recognition for the school?"_

Yet, he made no move at rebelling. He sat through the speech. And ones that followed.

It didn't matter how they idealized reality with their fake, flowery presentations. This would be one of those places he planned never to return to, a memory he wouldn't ever revisit after this day, anyway.

…

Reaching home after the graduation ceremony, he locked himself in his room, his little private world of darkness. Seiichi confined himself to an unoccupied corner and made a dock out of his cell phone to transport his messages and carry his longing from his world to another destination.

_How are you?_

He waited. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.

No one replied.

His fingers moved quickly over the small keypad again.

_Graduation was today. You earned yourself a lot of awards again. Your parents were proud._

He launched the message. This time, he didn't wait passively for a reply. He continued typing on the miniature keypad, his thumbs tapping around, dancing to a mad melody.

_Genichirou and I are proud of you too. You kept your part of the promise. You kept up with us._

He unloaded the last sentence from the message box. It sounded as if the other fell behind them all this time, as if he didn't contribute as much effort as they did.

_We kept up with each other._

Yeah, that seemed more fitting. He kept typing.

_Now that graduation is over, I guess I should give you your graduation present. Well, it's not really from me. It's from both Genichirou and I. We hope you'll like it._

He chuckled, thinking of his surprise.

_I know you'll like it._

He waited an entire afternoon for a reply.

When the wall clock chimed to remind him of all those hours he spent waiting, his cell phone finally slipped from his hand to land on the floor with a soft thud. He slumped from exhaustion's ambush.

His shoulders trembled when he buried his face in his arms. And the world felt like it was shaking and falling apart too.

…

_Everyone had kept secrets._

_Some secrets couldn't be told because of the judgment and punishment people were afraid to bring upon themselves if told. Then, there were secrets that had to be kept because no one believed in their validity._

_Seiichi had a secret that fit into the latter category._

_He recalled one incident during his childhood where he discovered a dying dunnock in his garden. He prepared the bird a proper burial, digging its grave with his own bare hands._

_At that time, the hot summer sun parched the earth. Each lump of solid soil stuck together, unyielding to his efforts._

_He dug and dug until his nails cracked and blood dripped from his hands to become moisturizer for the dry land. Yet, determination continued driving him on in the hardship._

_He received a scolding from his mom later on when she cleaned him up and bandaged his hands. After that, his let his memory of the bird decompose with its corpse._

_Until, one day, he found at the tiny funeral mound in his garden a single red tulip bulb. Red, like the blood that had fertilized the soil when he conducted the animal's burial._

_The day it finally blossomed, a bird, one identical to the one he buried, took to the sky breaking though the confining petals._

_The dunnock had been revived. He brought it back to life._

_When he realized the miracle he conceived, he shared his discovery with his mom. He had no intention of keeping such a thing a secret, for revelation, he expected, would bring him praise._

_His mother, however, dismissed his words as part of the silly make-up games children played._

" _Birds come from eggs. Flowers come from seeds. The two are completely different things." She explained patiently._

_At that age, if your own mother didn't believe you, then you thought, the rest of the world probably didn't either. Maybe, you might not even believe yourself._

_So, that secret remained a secret._

_Until now, until he dug it out, brushing off the years of neglect it collected._

…

Seiichi didn't mourn openly at his friend's death.

The silence of solitude spread through the chambers of his heart. And the spindle of his mind spun until it wove a completed plan from yarns of denial. Or was it yarns of reason?

What difference did it make anyway?

He didn't despair over Renji's death, because, he would find a way to bring Renji back.

If Dr. Frankenstein could bring new life onto this world, he thought, then he could as well.

However, knowing that Dr. Frankenstein created a monster, he feared he would make the same mistake. He didn't want to create a monster. He wanted to create a masterpiece, another Yanagi Renji. Yet, he knew he couldn't recreate a masterpiece like the other, as much as he wanted to.

He lacked the tools. He lacked the resources. He lacked a sophisticated scientific mind. Though most importantly, he was unwilling to use parts of dead corpses. Those didn't belong to Renji.

So he tried using the skill he developed through years of practice: planting. Seiichi was a gardener. He was used to planting and burying things. All the things he buried before sprouted from their origins from within the deep earth and grew to impressive heights.

His eyes finally settled back onto the hands he raised before him: the grooves and contours of his palms, his clean cut nails and slender fingers. These hands he would use to bring back his deceased companion.

He began by gathering Renji's belongings he requested from the other's mother and sister: his tennis racquets, tennis balls, calligraphy brushes, yukatas, matcha bowls, tea whisks… Next, he moved onto his own belongings that carried the other's memories: his prized photo albums including the one meant as a graduation present, the scented sachets the other made him, the calligraphy scrolls he hung on his wall…

All the things he gathered became seeds he buried in his backyard.

It was funny how the same hands that created were also the hands that destroyed. By the time he planted all the possessions, the flowers he had worked hard on planting lied around in broken fragments of stems, roots and petals.

His parents and his little sister, thinking he attempted to occupy his mind after his companion's death, only stood by passively.

They sent grief and condolence through their silent gazes at his busy figure. The same grief and condolence he snapped carelessly like the split blossoms lying in heaps around him.

…

What boundary, what line, existed to separate the past from the future?

Maybe, it didn't exist.

Five years later, some people changed, some things transformed, some places shifted.

Yet, to other people, other things, the period of five years came like a harmless itch that went away with a little scratch. Nothing altered.

When he opened his eyes in salutation to the morning, he found himself leaning against a wooden pillar at the veranda overlooking his large garden.

The bright colors he saw peeking from the new green growth hinted at the arrival of spring. Watching the scene made him feel like he too was a plant awakening from its long winter slumber.

He shifted in his seat. Then he noticed the blanket that covered him and protected him from the remains of winter lingering in the air.

The blanket served as the best reminder of spring's true arrival.

In the garden, at a distance, a willow tree stood like a guardian to his greenery. He admired it, almost to the point of obsession.

Soft footsteps pattering on the wooden floor sounded from behind him.

"Seiichi." A light, feather-like touch brushed his shoulder.

Recognition lifted his lips at both corners. He made no move to meet the familiar figure behind him. His gaze wouldn't surrender the sight of the willow tree whose swaying branches gestured at him an invitation for company.

Unable to spare a single look over his shoulder, he reached to place his hand on top the hand on his shoulder instead.

The tree he spent two years growing stood before him. This was the tree he grew going through pounds and pounds of fertile soil. The tree he nourished with his own crimson essence of life. The tree he transported along with all his belongings when he moved out of his parents' house. The tree he replanted in the backyard of his own house. The tree that finally helped him recover what he'd lost in the past.

"Good morning, Renji." Finally, he turned to his companion beside him like shifting his attention from the past to the present.

This was the one he gave life to. The one he moved far from Kanagawa for. The one who stayed beside him the last three years. The one who replaced loneliness as his companion.

The other's face became a clear reminder of those facts. In reaching out to caress his cheek, he confirmed the truth, verified the reality in which he lived in. It was the unchanged face from seven years ago: the oval face, the auburn hair with a neatly trimmed fringe, the long nose, the neutral line set between his lips. And also, characteristically, the eyes that hid almost completely behind eyelids.

He possessed the exact resemblance of his deceased companion. The resemblance before it crumbled away in the last few months of his life. The one standing before him now a Renji, forever twenty-one.

"...Seiichi." The other called quietly.

Renji's open-eyed gaze aborted his thoughts. Even the color of the other's eyes matched Renji's in his memories—crystalline amber. Like looking at the willow tree in his garden, he could look into those eyes and be mesmerized, be eternally frozen in the moment.

Yet, he chose to avert his gaze and rise from his seat.

"It's another lovely day." He stretched, fingers laced and arms reaching far up and behind him. His joints groaned, loosening from their stiffness.

The other bent to retrieve the blanket on the floor. Straightening, he folded the rectangular throw over an arm.

Seiichi turned to walk into the house. He stopped halfway, when another aroma overpowered the earthy smell of outdoors. The dense smokiness of grilled fish and the saltiness competing with the ocean that could only be produced from miso soup.

"You made breakfast." The bluenet commented.

"Aa. It is ready on the table."

"I really missed your cooking." He added softly, sincerely, almost as if he didn't want the other to hear him.

Renji strolled up beside him, sending a serene smile in his direction. "Aa. Thank you."

Seiichi returned the smile, knowing the deeper meaning of their exchange that existed beyond their mundane small talk about cooking and food.

…

Their work began after a morning of quiet breakfast.

They drove in Seiichi's mini pickup truck to a local greenhouse.

The greenhouse was situated on a piece of vacant lot Seiichi rented after his greenery had taken up his entire garden at home down to the littlest corner. It had been empty ground put on lease for a long time because no one knew what to do with it. A cluster of average-sized homes crowded nearby. A children's playground fitted into the tight-packed neighborhood somehow as well.

When Seiichi rented the space, he had joked about how things just seemed to have fallen under Fate's control. Certain things belonged to certain people no matter what. While everyone saw the land as useless space, he used it fittingly to his advantage.

After they recovered whatever they needed for the day, they set off to Seiichi's flower shop. Set near an busy industrial area, there were always people hurrying past the little shop. Like the greenhouse with its odd presence among the cluster of residences, the flower shop and its coziness seemed like another oddity among the luxurious stores that tempted customers with strident and flamboyant appeals.

They started with simple arrangements around the shop. As soon as they double-checked the stock and placed plants accordingly to color complimentary, Seiichi unlocked the front glass doors. The little flower shop began accepting customers at ten o'clock sharp each day.

Customers coursed in one by one shortly after.

Contradictory to appearances, their flower shop grew to be rather popular in the area. Most of their clients were females, eager and talkative as they don't hesitate in initiating spontaneous conversations with him and Renji.

Their compliments included the usual, "Your flowers last exceptionally long, Yukimura-kun!" Or, "Your bouquets are just so beautiful!"

Aside from giving them compliments, some customers advanced to asking about other things. More personal things. Like the flowers they liked. Or if they had girlfriends. Or their hobbies. …And their cell phone numbers. He answered most of their questions with a dazzling smile. And to the questions he felt inappropriate about giving away the answers to ("Where do you live, Yukimura-kun?"), he simply redirected the conversation to a different direction, usually asking a few light, conversation-starting questions on his own instead.

Out of the female client population, the majority return, bringing along new faces.

When he waved goodbye to the last client, he realized that it was already two hours past noon and neither of them had yet had a break. He turned about the idea of hiring for help in his mind.

For lunch, the two of them sat at a small round table supporting a glass surface eating sandwiches Renji made and drinking freshly brewed lavender green tea. The flowers encompassing them, in buckets on the floor and hanging in baskets from the ceiling, made it appear as if they were situated within a botanical cafe.

During their meal, Seiichi noticed Renji staring out the window to pick out the traces of pink cherry blossoms in the sea of dark-colored business attires.

Smiling, he made a suggestion. "We should go sightseeing soon."

Renji spared him a brief glance, then turned back to the window. "Aa."

It was a tradition they developed. To go sightseeing once the flowers budded in spring's arrival.

Imitating his companion beside him, he too turned to look out the window to admire the blossoming new life. A certain passerby entered his field of vision. He would have dismissed him like any other passerby if it hadn't been the other's appearance. Seiichi recognized him instantly even after all these years.

He watched the passerby's eyes widen. But the man wasn't looking at him; his entire expression incredulous as he peered at the one beside him.

So he followed the passerby's gaze, turning to Renji and seeing him nod at the man politely.

But of course, the other had no idea of the passerby's identity.

The passerby disappeared from sight. A moment later, the door chimes announced a newcomer.

Renji stood to greet the newcomer. While, he remained in his seat, simply sipping his tea nonchalantly.

"Yukimura...and..."

He finally turned to the newcomer, the passerby he and his companion saw through the window before. Disregarding his direct and prying gaze on his companion, he greeted the other naturally.

"How are you, Genichiriou?"

...

 **[BGM:** Monkey Majik - "Aishiteru" (piano ver.) **]**

 **[BGM:** Rise Against - "Swing Life Away" **]**

If a blurry boundary existed between the past and the present, then maybe a matching margin merged reality and fantasy.

They sat, face to face, drinking Renji's brewed apple chamomile tea. Chamomile. An herb with calming and relaxing effects. Hopefully, if the herb truly had the benefits health journals claimed it to have, it would keep unnecessary tension from creeping into their conversation. They would be able to hold a normal conversation like they did a few years back.

He watched the newcomer sip his honey-scented tea carefully. A bit _too_ carefully, actually. Seiichi counted it to be the fifth sip the other had taken in five minutes' span. He wasn't a human calculator like Renji; he simply observed, his subject's deliberate slowness coincidentally making his task of observation simpler.

The other took a sip of his tea whenever the minute hand ghosted over the number 12 on the clock hanging up on the wall behind his seat. He recognized the other's repetitive movements as his pathetic attempt to keep his mouth occupied. So he could have an excuse for remaining silent. For being unable to talk.

Five minutes later, the other added a new activity to his a-sip-a-minute routine. Whenever he stopped sipping his tea, he started studying the Renji presently rearranging flowers around the little shop.

Seiichi imitated the other's gestures, replacing the other's robotic rigidity with his own smooth grace. He sipped his own tea. Like the other, he used it as an excuse, as a cover-up while he studied the stranger before him.

Sanada Genichirou wore a fresh crew cut hairstyle. The sharp angles along his jaw and the distinct lines in his face combined with the haircut made him appear like a soldier. The other still looked a _lot_ older than his age. And Seiichi swore he spotted a few gray strands in his jet black hair.

When their silence game finally bored him, he put his cup down to initiate conversation.

"So, what have you been up to in the last five years?"

Genichirou slowly pulled his gaze from the figure in the distance. A few invisible sticky strings still attached, refusing to be severed. He brought his focus forward to him.

"I teach history at a university."

The succinct statement revealed much of the other's unchanged character to Seiichi.

Genichirou always excluded all extraneous elaborative elements in all that he did. He defined everything clearly, concisely. The definitions he assigned to people and things assumed to be direct. Clean-cut.

Teammates were teammates. Classmates, classmates. Friends, friends. Black was black, and white, white. Wrong never passed as right.

Then, of course, exceptions applied to any basis. Renji existed as the exception to his definitive principles, as the gray to his world of black and white. To Sanada Genichirou, Yanagi Renji wasn't just a teammate. Or just a classmate. Or just a friend. He fit him into all those categories but found a lacking in his companion's defined roles. Though, Renji's gender prevented him from further defining him, defining the relationship between them, because doing so would only oppose the traditions he was raised to follow.

He continued to propel their conversation forward. "So then, what brings you here? Why now after so long?"

"It's spring recess at the university. I visited your old home, and you parents directed me here."

"That's nice." His lips lifted to a lazy, half-hearted smile at one corner. It collapsed to a grim line a few seconds later. "But you still haven't answered my question. What took you so long to come and visit? And think before you avoid answering my question directly again. I'm not taking any work-related excuses."

"..." Genichirou remained speechless, as if he concentrated on digging deep for a respectable reason.

He grew tired of waiting after a while, waiting for the response he didn't know would come or not. Seiichi began again.

"Should I answer for you then? You finally got the guts to face the past. You finally decided to stop running away. You could finally look at someone who's going to remind you of him."

Seiichi let out a sigh as if releasing his urge to drown the other in his disappointment. When they departed, the other never promised to come visit him. But a promise shouldn't have been necessary; it should have been implied.

He drank his tea swallowing anger's heat before continuing.

"You know, it's funny, Genichirou... He was the one who brought us together, and he became the one to separate us. And now, after his revival, we're sitting here, face to face, again..."

Genichirou made no comment. He persisted with his robotic movements, sipping the tea Renji made every once in a while. The tea that tasted like the ones steeped in his memory.

"You must have felt his return. That's why you're here." Seiichi put down his tea cup. "After all, you become more assertive when it comes to anything related to him."

"Don't be ridiculous." Genichirou shot back almost immediately. "That's not him. What you have created is not Renji. Renji is already dead."

He said "what" instead of "who." Genichirou's word choice didn't upset him. The other _was_ correct, literally.

Seiichi shrugged, smirking. "Your words are still as merciless as before, ne."

They aborted their conversation there. They remained silent until they finished their tea. They remained silent when Genichirou rose to leave. Then, Genichirou's polite yet aloof goodbye interrupted the silence.

As he watched Genichirou's retreating figure, his lips lifted lamely to a mocking smile. Though, he didn't know who he directed it to. Both he and Genichirou chose to escape, to deny the truth of their companion's death in their own ways. Both their ways rather pathetic.

"Why does the truth matter so much to people?" He murmured to himself. Empty eyes stared blankly at the tea cup's bare bottom, as if seeking an answer in the white porcelain void.

Renji stepped over to clear the cups off the tabletop. Seiichi tucked at him gently from his seat. Encircling his arms around the other's waist, his forehead leaned resting against his abdomen.

"...Seiichi?"

"Give me a minute, Renji."

_'Why should the truth matter so much when delusions already appeared so real and beautiful?'_

Genichirou's words cut and cracked at the delusions he surrounded himself in.

But that's all.

The other's words could only _crack_ his delusions. They didn't _shatter_ them.

He constructed a thick delusion that became a dormant explosive implanted in his mind. What existed as reality and what prevailed as fantasy? Sorting through so that things fell neatly into each category would only result in the destruction of his mind, his life.

…

_One person ran away. Another stood in place. They were both escapists in their own way._

_Seiichi didn't attend Renji's wake. Nor did he attend his funeral._

_When Genichirou visited him after the funeral, he still worked away at his garden._

_From behind, he heard the careful whispers of his parents telling his friend to handle him with care. Handle him with care? Was he some kind of paper doll?_

_The black of his friend's attire told him the other had just returned from the ceremony. The way he stood like a shadow behind him as he worked made him feel as if he was the one conducting the burial. That irritated him. He wasn't conducting a burial. He was creating a birth._

" _I came here to say goodbye." The other started._

_He kept working without a look over his shoulder. "Oh, really? Where're you headed?"_

" _Nishio."_

 _The other only revealed the city name. He didn't give him his new address. He didn't want him to visit him, didn't want to see him again and be reminded of the past. "You're not staying? You know,_ something _might just happen."_

" _Seiichi-…" The other started in a critical tone, then stopped abruptly. His parents' reminder probably wrung his neck, forcing him to swallow his admonishment._

_He knew what he wanted to say, anyway._

_Wake up. Stop dreaming. He's not here anymore. He's dead. Move on with your life._

"… _Take care of yourself." After a few moments of silence consisting of the other picking through all the things he wanted to tell him, he managed to squeeze out a scrawny statement._

"… _But you'll come back to visit, won't you?"_

"…" _The other didn't answer. Seiichi knew the other never made any promises he doubt he could keep. If Renji lack the skill in saying goodbyes, then the other's lack of skill lied in lying. The worst liars were those who never attempted at lying._

_The other left._

_Only after the other's departure did he realized he had been clutching a lump of dirt in his gloved hand. He held on tightly, as if he physically held their friendship, held onto intangible hope within his grasp._

…

They went sightseeing as they've done in the past two years, adhering to their spring routine.

Genichirou didn't visit again after that certain day. Because he didn't leave anything behind after his departure, it appeared as if he never stopped by.

Yet, Seiichi believed, as long as the other knew of Renji's existence here, he would return. Regardless of the amount of time the other would spend denying his desire to revisit, declining his desire to grasp the beautiful delusion before him.

…

At a certain part of a suburban residential area, where a greenhouse stood out oddly against its conformed surrounding, the owner of a little cozy flower shop arranged a small bouquet of flowers. A bouquet of Indian pink flowers (3), to be exact.

The bluenet packed the blossoms together tenderly, like a mother wrapping her child in a bundle. A serene smile spread his lips, though his usual bright sapphire eyes hazed, as if distant thoughts transported his soul elsewhere.

Completing his bouquet arrangement, he cradled the bundle close to him and exited the greenhouse.

His feet carried him to a nearby tree. He stopped in front of the large plant and waited for the moment he dedicated to silence to pass.

' _Hello and goodbye.'_

…

_He visited him again before his scheduled surgery, after the day he notified them of the doctor's decision._

_When he entered his room this time, the other slept curled up and tucked snuggly under the covers._

_Renji spent a majority of his time in a coma-like sleep state. The effects of chemotherapy, no doubt. It grated his gastric lining. It removed his hair. It clouded his consciousness._

_He sat down on Renji's bed. The other stirred, awakening._

_In truth, he could have picked another spot to sit as not to disturb the other's slumber. Yet, selfishness spoiled all his thoughtful considerations. He wanted to interrupt the other's sleep. He wanted the other to acknowledge his presence. He wanted the other to converse with him._

" _Good morning."_

_The other sat up slowly. "Morning…already?"_

" _I wasn't being literal."_

_Renji paused to glance over to the curtain-drawn window before asking. "…What time is it really?"_

_Seiichi peered at his wrist watch. "Five fifty-eight. Evening."_

_Renji nodded, comprehending his answer. Though, it really made no difference to him as a patient what time of the day it was._

_Their conversation suffered a sudden death then. That seemed to happen a lot now. Fortunately, neither of them minded it. Their countless conversations in the past made up, balanced out the silence now._

_He used the opportunity to examine him, to take note of his lost sharpness and how he sat there spacing out. The other appeared like the room he occupied. Empty. Bare._

_The usual Renji wouldn't have taken his greeting literally. He would have analyzed the staff activity in the hallway to hypothesize the time. But chemotherapy confiscated his youthful mind and made him much like a senile elder._

_They revived their conversation, exchanging a few more words, with Seiichi doing most of the talking. He told him of the mundane little things that occurred in school, at home. Sooner or later, he carried a monologue. Until finally, foreign weight upon his shoulder stopped him altogether._

_Renji drifted off to sleep again._

_He didn't help him lie back down in bed. Instead, he stayed unmoving, raising a hand to stroke at the other's back to coax him into a deeper slumber._

_Seiichi didn't know how long he remained in the same still position, letting the other use his shoulder as a pillow. And he didn't bother lifting his arm to check his wrist watch again._

_Time didn't matter to him._

_At that moment, his idle mind conjured up a word._

_Forever._

_How clichéd it sounded. How impossible it was to achieve it in one's life. Yet, how strongly he felt it then--the forever that preserved them in this little time-forgotten room._

…

Everyone had moments where he loses track of time. One day you wake up and you just can't tell Tuesday from Thursday. When such a thing happens, you could only feel lucky that you made it a habit to keep a calendar hanging on your wall.

Seiichi made it a habit to end each day officially by marking the specific box on the calendar with a red X. The red X claimed his existence for another day on earth.

The trail of red X's finally led to today. June 4th.

That certain person's birthday landed on this day. The certain deceased person.

Seiichi knew he should visit him at his grave like his family members and friends. But he didn't. He never did.

Because visiting his grave on an occasion like this meant introducing himself to unnecessary gloom, unnecessary mourning. He didn't want to face the other's parents, the other's sister, the other's friends, to share their sorrow, their sadness. He shunned them along with the past like shunning something foreign and uninteresting to him.

Instead, he found a make-do grave at the Japanese maple tree near the greenhouse and deposited the bouquet at the base of its trunk. No one knew of this make-do grave. Not even his companion who currently worked alone at their flower shop. He held onto it as his own little secret. And he prided himself for it. For being able to hold onto something related to that person.

Seiichi knelt down before the bouquet to stare through the inanimate object to that person's form he created in his mind.

"It didn't matter whether you were alive or dead. You never belonged to me. If who you belonged to depended on who gave you your life, then you belonged to your parents. If who you belonged to depended on who you returned to after life, then you belonged to Death."

His tone lowered to a whisper, heavy with resignation.

"As much as I want you for myself..."

He stopped himself there. Those words he must have repeated a thousand times already. He intended to come and distribute flowers. He fulfilled that intention. Now, he should leave.

When he stood up, he felt the past loosen its grip on his being. It happened whenever he conducted this liberating ritual.

Maybe life made him insecure, unstable. That he had to compromise and lower his standards. Before, he wanted someone to walk beside him, to share his passion, compliment his ideals. But now, all he wanted was someone who would willingly walk beside him on life's path.

Amusingly, people become better and better at compromises as they age, after they realize hard work alone wouldn't be able to bring them closer to achieving certain wishes.

…

Seiichi returned to the flower shop.

From his place on the street at a distance, he spotted a familiar figure inside. The said figure sat at the table conversing with his companion.

A few people enter the flower shop. Renji stood from his seat to help the newly arrived clients.

When he watched the other observe Renji quietly as if comparing him to the Renji who they both knew in the past, he smiled to himself, secretly amused. Seiichi wanted to ask him of the conclusions he reached, or didn't reach, after his observations.

The other had called this Renji a lie. The same lie the other currently confined himself in.

Be it the Yanagi Renji or this replicated creation who talks and acts exactly like the deceased, it didn't matter. The Renji then and the Renji now both became the gray area in Genichirou's black and white world.

Genichirou turned to the door the exact moment he entered as the other clients exited. The other spared him an initial glance of blank disinterest, dismissing him for another client. Though, his expression transformed immediately--his eyes widened to pure surprise.

"You came again." He commented.

"…Aa. I don't have any classes to teach over the summer." The other answered, recomposing himself.

"So, you're getting a break." He walked over to sit down before him at the table.

Renji called out to him from behind the counter. "Seiichi, do you want some tea?"

Seiichi nodded. "Yes, please."

When he turned back to him, he asked. "So, what are your plans?"

"Not much." A dull, succinct answer yet again.

"Well, you were never the vacationing type. Renji and I always had to drag you to places." He shrugged, accustomed to his aloofness.

"..."

Silence slaughtered their conversation. He lost count of how many times such had happened ever since their reunion. Was it caused by the other's deep contemplation or his discomfort at the mention of the past? He didn't know.

Until, Renji interrupted. "Your tea, Seiichi."

A soft thud of tea cup and platter on the table's glass surface succeeded. Abandoning his bit of disappointment, he picked up his tea cup to taste his tea.

Lukewarm _soba_ tea. Perfect for the summer.

"Do you want a refill, Genichirou?" Renji offered, readying his teapot.

Seiichi paused mid-sip when he noticed the way Renji addressed the other. He raised his eyes from his reflection upon the surface of the amber liquid to look at the man sitting across from him.

"Please." Genichirou focus never left his companion's face as he refilled his cup. The way the other seemed much at ease with Renji made him wonder of the kind of conversation they carried during his absence.

As much as he wanted to, he held back the urge to comment on the man's change. Instead, he suggested. "Renji, why don't you sit with us so we can all have tea together?"

"Aa." Renji retrieved a teacup set, poured his own tea and sat down.

Seiichi began once more. "Since you don't have any plans for the summer, would you like to come with us on a vacation together?"

He watched the other stare hard into his tea as if seriously considering.

After a while, he finally said. "I must decline your offer. I think it is time I visit my parents."

While being succinct revealed one's intentions simply and directly, it also left room for possibilities.

Genichirou's parents, like his parents, still resided back at Kanagawa. Of course, the other couldn't be spending the entire summer just to visit his parents. He would also be spending time to review the place crowded with memories.

After they took some time enjoying each other's company, Genichirou finally stood to leave.

"Come visit us again when you have time." He offered--his smile casual, his words sincere.

"Aa."

"And if you're worried about the long distance, remember, you can stay at our place anytime. As long as you want." He emphasized the last of his offer.

"...Aa."

He watched the other's retreating figure, knowing he just needed to sort a few more things out. But he knew he would be back soon, after he does some over-thinking.

…

During their summer vacation, his mind became a marker tracing memory's map. The places they traveled to now had all been places he once visited in the past.

What boundary, what line, existed to separate the past from the future? It didn't exist.

Ten years ago. Ten years later. People barely changed. Things minimally transformed. Places hardly shifted. The places in his memory he once came to and revisited now like the Renji revived; all stood still at a single point in time.

How ironic it was that places resisted change the same way people did.

The prestigious Matsumoto Castle, preservation of the ancient--samurai armor, customs, history.

The magnificent Lake Ashi at Hakone, a perfect seeing glass of Mount Fuji's grace.

Kyoto, Japan's old capital, containing its well preserved culture and tradition. Its temples and oriental gardens a masterpiece of man's manipulation of his natural environment.

As he and his companion traveled to these setting, what once was the excitement of youth years ago, now settled to thick nostalgia. He must be getting old to feel such a sophisticated emotion.

Renji had taken a liking of Kyoto's aged atmosphere. They decided to settle in the city for a longer time than they had in other places.

They spent another day at a nearby temple. It had been especially crowded there due to a special matcha demonstration by a reputable tea master. After the event, they toured the oriental garden, complete with wooden ryoutei (4), scattered stone lanterns, small gurgling bodies of water swimming with slender scarlet koi, and little cascading waterfalls.

It wasn't until well past the hour of dinner that they finally returned to their onsen(5) ryokan(6).

The baths were empty of other guests. They soaked themselves in hot, steaming water, letting their fatigue drain out and vaporize.

Rejuvenated, Seiichi peered at Renji through the misty water vapors. His companion appeared much like a dissipating mirage. He reached out to embrace him to make sure he's no illusion. Then, taking advantage of the vacant onsen, he advanced on the other in the heat of the moment, sealing his lips with his. His lips wiped away the last trace of night's cool breeze from his.

The two of them sat at the veranda of their room relaxing following the bath.

The dim light from the lit stone lanterns in the garden spread to the leaves on the trees and grass on the ground illuminating them.

"I sense autumn's arrival." Renji concluded after examining the night view.

"That's just too bad." Seiichi lowered himself down to rest his head upon his companion's lap. "I really wanted us to go to Hokkaido too. It's quite stunning there during autumn and winter…"

"Take pictures when you go. Then, I would know what it looks like."

"It's not the same." A single soundless scene crossed his mind for a brief moment _._ Though, he had difficulty recalling the other's words to him in that memory. _"_ It's just not the same if you're not there."

When he blinked, the movie-clip-like scene was swept away too. He then concentrated on the tips of the leaves dipped in fleeting summer's red and orange. He let his imagination set flames of autumn on the trees.

And for the first time, he saw his future instead of his bothersome past. The maple tree in the garden before him becoming his willow tree engulfed in flames. And the life he conceived, this Renji, swallowed in the fire's bright red petals.

He allowed the scene to play before his eyes. His content sprouted, the mad and forbidden satisfaction, stemmed not from sadism but acceptance.

Renji was the beautiful fairytale he was going to continue believing in regardless of how many people try to rip him from his dream. He would dream on and carry this beautiful fairytale to his grave.

…

Renji's tree already began shedding its leaves when the two of them returned from their lengthy summer retreat.

He spent the next few days sorting through the photos he took on their vacation to decide which ones he should send to the photography contest. Maybe he was just naturally talented, or maybe, as luck had it, he just naturally excelled at everything he invested effort in, regardless it being tennis or photography. Photography developed into a hobby he honed especially during his college years. His works often entered contests and received recognitions.

Many of the prized photos in his collection that he ended up using as a part of Renji's creation contained his most treasured memories of the three of them during their school days. The collection that would have been Renji's graduation present.

He wondered ceaselessly, however. If photos served as the manifestations of one's memory, then why did the photos he buried fail to produce memories for the revived Renji? Why did they not bestow upon him the memories he was supposed to have.

Oh, well. That's life. Unexpected, as much as people thought they had full control over it. Or maybe, like Dr. Frankenstein who created a creature of his own, he was also being punished for defying the potency of natural law.

…

They returned to work at their little flower shop.

Until, September blew in with the chill of early autumn and Renji became drowsier day by day. It became normal for him to find his companion dozing off on the table after providing assistance to their clients.

Certainly, it would be best for him to start hiring aid for autumn and winter.

By mid-September, after half the leaves on Renji's tree have fallen, Seiichi persuaded him to return to his tree to hibernate. Renji agreed finally after a few attempts at protest.

The next day, coincidentally, he re-encountered a friend at the flower shop.

When the door chimes sounded indicating the arrival of a new customer, he glanced up from his work to find the familiar face at the door.

"Genichirou." He greeted.

Genichirou nodded at him. "Yukimura."

He lifted a brow at the formality the other was still taking with his name but said nothing. Distance would have to be abridged through time.

The other's sharp gaze wandered through the store, intending to sweep over every corner to find his target.

Mischief-driven, he cracked at the other's seriousness the same way the other had cracked the delusion he created.

"If you're looking for Renji," his face fell during mid-sentence, "he won't be here for a _long_ time."

The other's eyes widened incredulously. "...Do you mean..."

Deciding that the other's serious character had low of tolerance for mischief, he smiled again to dispel the anxiety in the air. "Come on. I'll show you what I mean."

Locking up the little shop and placing a sign that read "Back in a Bit!" behind the glass door, he led the other to his mini pickup truck.

They drove to his house, where he motioned for him to follow him to the garden in the back, to the willow tree standing there with bare skeletal branches.

He patted the trunk. "It's autumn. He's just hibernating."

Genichirou stared wordlessly at the tree as if finally meeting up with a long lost friend. He reached out hesitantly to touch the trunk, to confirm the reality of its existence.

He watched him in amusement. But he didn't say anything, knowing the other needed the quiet moment. The other, who had been escaping reality in his own way all these years.

After a while, the hand he used to stroke the bark returned to his side. He found his voice again.

"Seiichi."

"Yes, Genichirou."

"...Is your offer from before still valid?"

After the long hours studying the Renji of his creation, the other had reached the same conclusion that he had once struggled to reach.

It didn't matter that this Renji was just a creation, a manifestation of the Yanagi Renji from their past. What mattered was the realization that this truly would be the closest they'll come to repossessing the real person.

And when you couldn't have the real thing, you had to learn to compromise. As one ages, compromise became a skill that was easier and easier to perform. He was going to make-do with what meagerness offered him. A single lifetime would pass quickly in others' company.

Seiichi beamed. "Of course. You didn't even have to ask."

Genichirou turned to him then, finally, and offered a small smile, the first smile he saw him show in their meetings after five years.

Seiichi only looked to the sky above hoping spring would soon come around the corner. Spring, when the three of them would be together again. As it should be.

Regardless in the pitiful past or this seemingly over-idealistic, fairytale-like present.

 **[END BGM:** Sun Nan  & Han Hong - "Endless Love" **]**

 **[END BGM:** Gackt - "Secret Garden" **]**

**Author's Note:**

> (1) - The part where Yanagi agreed to the "max-dose" chemotherapy treatment was actually inspired by a moving movie called _Wit_ , starring Emma Thompson. It was assigned to our clinical group, and we had an entire discussion on it regarding the research conducted on medications. Drugs will always do some harm first before they can benefit the sick.
> 
> (2) - Usually, surgical intervention is only for the excision of solid, localized tumors. In cases where cancer is scattered all over the body in advanced lymphoma, surgery is no longer an option.
> 
> (3) - Birthday flower for June 4th. Its meaning in the language of flowers is "sorrow."
> 
> (4) - pavilion in a garden (used to keep cool)
> 
> (5) - hot spring
> 
> (6) - A type of traditional Japanese inn with typical features such as tatami-matted rooms, communal baths, etc. Visitors there usually walk around in their yukatas.
> 
> In truth, Yanagi really isn't a main character of this story. Memory is.
> 
> The original title and story are inspired by Shimizu Yuki's manga, C-Ze-. The "paper dolls/people"are created to carry the burden of their hosts' injuries. Then, it turns out, some hosts just use them as tools, while other hosts value them more than their own lives.


End file.
